


Jaybirds

by niceasspavus



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Clothed Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Porn with Feelings, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niceasspavus/pseuds/niceasspavus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan wants to have some alone time with Solas. Solas has feelings. And fucks her. Fluff ‘n’ smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jaybirds

“I want to show you something.”

He should have known by the curve of her mouth that going with her would be misguided. He should have made some excuse. He should have given her a thoughtless touch, a smile, a wordless riddle to ponder over as she tried to fall asleep. But he hadn’t, and as she led him by the hand through the winding halls of the keep, his anticipation grew ominously.

He followed her up flights of stairs, down flights of stairs, through tight hidden passageways, under collapsed doorways, across an isthmus of broken rubble, and into cavernous rooms.

“You have certainly familiarized yourself with the place,” Solas murmured, his voice echoing wryly against walls he knew very well.

Her low laughter whispered on down the hallway from which they’d come.

At last, a corridor. Dark, dusty. Light came in through a row of arrowslits and through cracked mortar, but so did the snow, which had accumulated in little piles underfoot. The base of his skull tingled.

“Here,” Lavellan said softly, drawing him to a fissure in the wall. “Look.”

A bird’s nest and three little speckled eggs.

He smiled. “Ah, lethallan, beautiful. How unusual for jaybirds to find shelter here.”

“Isn’t it? Despite all of this destruction, they’ve found a home.”

The smile widened. “Apt.”

“Don’t be droll,” she chided good-humouredly, turning from the nest to look up at him. The erratic light did wondrous things on her face. _Mir’ara_ , so beautiful.

“Solas,” she hummed, slipping her slender hands into his.

Though her attempt to lure him here for discreet kisses was hardly guileless, he was pleased to oblige her.

Soft, at first. Ripe lips against each other, testing, touching, moving in tentative harmony. Then combined urgency, both heartbeats cantering. More, they drummed, more.

It was his tongue, then hers, then the chilly corridor blurring from focus.

Her mouth was wonderful. Warm, soft, delicious, a medley of strawberries and rich wine. Sweet and intoxicating. He drank her in with focused little sips, savouring each stroke of her tongue.

His breath hitched as he felt her smooth palms against the small of his back; she’d thieved her way into his shirt. She moved hesitantly at first, testing his boundaries, sucking his lower lip, raising her big eyes to meet his in a question.

She tasted so good. Mercy and murder, but she would have her way. He nibbled at her lip in vengeance, earning him a breathy chuckle.

Her hands were wicked and deft. Eager to scout this new territory, the pads of her fingers roamed the expanse of his lightly muscled back, dipping into the shallow hollows under his shoulder blades, hiking up the length of his spine.

Oh, how he wanted to touch her back. To see what he’d not even allowed himself in dreams, to feel all of that skin, to breathe her in scent, to have her arch against him in response to his caresses. He gripped her waist to keep himself from the clasps at her neck.

Lavellan’s hands shifted to finger the hem of his tunic, and she made as if to lift it over his head. Her hips moved to press against what was now an evident erection.

He gripped her wrist suddenly, startled out of his visions. “No.” Hesitated. “I–”

Her face fell and he languished. She drew a little breath, gaze brushing away from his. His languish deepened.

Fool.

If they did this – if he saw her naked, that would be that. There would be no going back. And she deserved more. It was too much. He shouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t.

Her eyes returned to his, and her brow set in a determination he had only ever seen from her on the battlefield. “Please, Solas.” Her voice shook.

They looked at each other for a long time. A gust of wind touched a stray curl of her hair and disturbed the snow at their feet. Goosebumps.

Mechanically, wordlessly, purposefully, he set to work on the ties of her breeches.

Her response was immediate, but he stopped her. “Let me,” was all he could muster, but it was gentle. “Be still, little wing.” And she was.

When her breeches and underthings were in a bundle above her soft doeskin boots, her patience broke and she went to work on her top.

Again, he took her wrist. “No, please,” he said, his voice hoarse with need and self-loathing. This was his punishment.

She looked up at him sternly but said nothing.

In the silence, he turned her to face the wall.  He pushed her gently with the flat of his palm between her shoulder blades. She braced steady hands against the eroded stone.

How utterly despicable he had become. Solas bowed his head and swallowed. “Lethallan, is this–”

“Yes,” she said at the wall curtly, without any further attempt to conceal her frustration. “Yes. Do it.”

He unlaced his breeches and stepped out of them, kicking them unceremoniously aside. And allowed himself to look at her.

It wasn’t how he’d wanted this, and he didn’t deserve any of it, but damn and damnation, it was enough.

The sight of her, only her backside and long legs revealed to him, made his own legs tremble as he took a step forward. He leaned closer, pressing his cock, hot and hard, against her flawless ass. Her jaw clenched. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his control to return.

“I cannot tell you,” he whispered in her ear, wrapping his hands around her splayed fingers, “how desperately long I have wanted you.”

A shiver ran through her and he smiled into her neck. He still had dominance over himself. He did. He did.

Nibbling on her earlobe tenderly, he murmured, “I hate waiting.” One hand left hers, and he lowered it to grip at the pliable flesh of her thigh. He choked back a groan. So soft. Softer than he’d imagined. Softer. His hand wandered between her legs and the tendons of her neck strained against his lips satisfyingly. He eased his fingers closer, closer.

“Why, you are positively shaking,” he whispered breathily, then stroked one digit against her clit.

Her wanton little moan did incredible things to him, and he pressed his cock against her, biting his lip to keep from crying out. He let his fingers slide into her, and by oblivion, perdition, the endless abyss, she was so wet for him. She gasped for breath.

He shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

He filled his lungs and he eased himself into her.

Colours behind his eyes blossomed, every thread of his nerves frayed, weaving and unweaving, hot, static, heady, wet. She was his but he was hers. _A mistake, a mistake_ , some part of his brain whispered frantically, but the rest of him cried for more. She was so sweet and tight around him, _so good_ , _so good,_ so good that he felt his own tears dampening her hair when he hid his face there.

He needed more.

He thrust himself deeper, Lavellan’s hips pressing back, desperate for his cock. She clenched around him and he burrowed relentlessly, easing lewd cries from her that echoed in the most captivating way off of the stone.

Bracing one arm against the rough wall, he set to unraveling her hair with the dextrous fingers of the other. Twists, braids, knots, all came apart in hurried movements, and Lavellan’s hair spilled from her, _fuck_ , _yes_ , her silky, soft, glossy, hair, _fuck_. He buried himself in her, and in her hair. A smell both alien and kindred. A clean smell. A warm smell. _Her_ smell.

A growl rose in his throat and she shuddered around him at the sound of it.

Solas gathered all of that lush hair, looping it around his fist, and pulled gently to tilt her head back. He pulled her collar with his teeth, desperate for more of her exposed shoulder. And he assuaged his raw mouth. Kissing, biting, sucking, licking at the skin and filling her completely in reward for each of her moans.

Still tugging on her hair, he watched her, rapt and attentive, as she gasped for air at every of his movements. Misery, but she was perfect. Her nails scraped against the crumbling stone, her fingertips red and bleeding, and the sight of it drove him so nearly beyond control that a whine escaped his lips. A whimper. A hungry pup’s mewl.

He released her hair to tease at her clit. “Fuck,” he whispered, coming apart at the seams, pleading, wrapping at arm around her gently even as he pounded at her. “Come for me, _ma vhenan_ , come for me, sweetheart, my treasure–”

A pity that his endearments were to be drowned in her cries.

He spent with her, deftly guiding each pleasure from each of them, until his limbs were smoke. The rest of him, embers.

And then they were back in Skyhold.

Their greedy breaths were suddenly too loud, and they both laughed huskily as they separated. Lavellan turned to face him, hair wild, her cheeks flushed and glistening, her eyes warm and heavy-lidded. She pulled up her breeches in her elegant way, and stepped forward to embrace him.

“Come,” she said abruptly, bending to retrieve his discarded trousers and shove them into his arms. After he donned them, chuckling, she took his hand. “I want to show you something else.”

In the dark corridor behind them, one of the speckled eggs stirred.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I blatantly stole "little wing" from Matriarch Benezia. And no, I don't regret it.
> 
> It wasn't until I wrote this that I realized that I put an EGG METAPHOR IN A SOLAS FIC, FUCK, so let's pretend it didn't happen.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. Corrections/constructive criticism are welcome, as I'm still very new at this (and because I'm submitting this in a rather sleep-deprived state)! Thanks for reading :3


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